Lord of the Flies
by stress
Summary: otherwise known as: The Saga of the Soda. In which Mush has a craving, and Kid Blink just goes along for the ride. One Shot.


Disclaimer: _The characters in this story are the property of Disney and are only used for fan related purposes. _

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**Lord of the Flies  
**or _the saga of the soda_…

--

The sun was blazing, the stuffy air both sweltering and rancid with the smells of a big city hard at work. It was another New York summer, complete with humidity and the sort of pests that left red welts on your legs when they bit, and we find our two heroes flat on their backs, basking in the sliver of shade presented by one of the larger trees on the edge of Central Park.

"It's hot out," Mush Meyers announced to his best friend.

"Yeah," Kid Blink Moore agreed.

"The shade ain't doing much to keep us cool, is it?"

"Nope, and the flies won't stop bitin' either."

Still, neither one of them moved from their place under the tree.

With an ink-stained hand, Mush swatted away a buzzing fly that seemed to land right on the tip of his sweaty nose just as Blink brought them up. He thought about that, wondering if Blink has managed to find a way to talk to flies, before deciding not to mention it. It was too hot to start thinking about what kind of voodoo Kid Blink could do.

Instead, he asked, "Do you think we should move?"

"Where are we gonna move to?"

"I don't know… what do you think?"

"Well, the lodging house'll be just as hot, and Tibby's is bound to be packed," Blink pointed out. "And it always smells like cabbage and feet in there when it gets steamy out."

"Yeah… you're right."

That was one of the reasons they had retreated to Central Park as soon as the morning selling was done. All of the other fellows had hightailed it to the nearby diner—it probably would have been even hotter (not too mention smellier) inside with all those ripe, unwashed bodies.

Trying not to think about how sweaty and stinky he must be, Mush stared back up at the wispy, white clouds. Tilting his head, debating whether or not that one cloud looked like Medda Larkson, he swallowed… and immediately realized that what he wanted more than anything at that moment was a nice, cold, refreshing drink.

And not just _any_ drink. Mush had a craving.

"Hey, Blink?"

"Yeah?"

"You know what I could really go for right now?"

Blink thought about it for a second before giving up. Knowing Mush, it could be anything. "What, Mush?"

"A Coca-Cola."

He was right. With Mush, it really could be anything. "A what?"

Propping himself up on his elbows, Mush sat up, turning to face his friend. Wearing an expression of utter disbelief, he asked, "You don't know what a Coca-Cola is?"

Blink must have heard the shock in the other boy's voice because he lifted the eyelid of his good eye and, after getting used to the bright sunlight again, glanced at Mush. The indignant look on the olive-skinned boy's face made him pay closer attention. Half asleep from the stifling heat, Blink go the distinct impression he was missing out on something real important.

"Coca-Cola, huh?" He shook his head. "Sorry, Mush. Doesn't sound familiar."

"You gotta be kiddin'! It's only the best drink around," he told Blink, his exasperation making him forget how hot it was outside. "C'mon, Blink, you had to have seen the posters up for it."

Blink nodded slowly. If he thought about it hard enough, he was pretty sure he remembered an over-sized picture on the side off a large building just off of Newspaper Row. "Hold on, Mush. Are you talkin' about that dolled up dame with the really big—"

"It's supposed to be loads better than a sarsaparilla soda," Mush interrupted hurriedly, pretending he didn't notice the way Blink had lifted his hands up to his chest and was holding them out pretty far, "and it comes in a glass bottle and everything!"

There was something about the way he said that that made Blink a little suspicious. "Let me ask you something. Have you ever had this soda before?"

Mush slowly turned his head away. "No, but…"

"Tell me you ain't just tryin' it 'cause of a lady with big—"

"I'm really thirsty," Mush cried, stumbling over himself in an attempt to hurriedly climb to his feet. "You want to come with me and see if we can find a Coca-Cola?"

Blink sighed, stretching his arms out before slowly getting up. "I guess I have to," he said, regretfully leaving the cool grass and the shade. "Who else are the flies gonna bother if you go on without me?

And Mush, so consumed with a sudden desire to… to try some Coca-Cola, never even heard what Blink had said.

--

Finding a Coca-Cola was easier said than done.

They already knew Tibby's didn't sell the drink, having memorized the menu countless visits ago, and the two boys decided against checking—to be on the safe side, as Mush put it—just in case a conversation with one of their fellow newsies distracted them from their soda search. But the corner shops they frequented almost as much didn't have it either, and neither did any of the peddlers they met out on the street.

Blink was beginning to understand just why he had never of this thing before, or why Mush had never tried it.

At his urging, Mush led the pair of them—Mush stubborn and quick, Kid Blink sluggish in the heat—down past Newspaper Row, figuring that the building that had the picture posted might actually sell the soda. It didn't; the paper mill inside only had paper which made Blink snicker and Mush even more determined to find a Coca-Cola.

Then again, that might have been because the two boys lingered briefly opposite of the large poster after they got tossed out of the mill. Mush gaped open-mouthed at the photograph of the model holding her bottle of Coca-Cola; Blink just wished he had the use of both eyes to ogle the high class woman staring down at them.

It was only when Mush looked dazed—a reaction that had nothing to do with the heat—and Blink opened his mouth to say something… well, knowing Blink, it would probably be pretty perverse… that the dark-haired boy remembered what they were doing. His craving even stronger than before, he cut Blink off before he could say anything and started dragging him down the block.

In the end, it took them six shops, ten blocks and three times when Blink tried sneakily to mention the woman from the Coca-Cola advertisement before they finally found a small general store that had the same picture—though much smaller—in the window.

Mush stopped suddenly when he saw the sign. Blink, who was dawdling behind his friend, thinking about… Coca-Cola, ran right into Mush's back. They clunked, and he felt a shooting pain run through his nose. Mush, he discovered, had a very hard head.

He rubbed his nose, suddenly more awake now than when they swung past Newspaper Row. "What did you have to go and do that for, Mush? Stoppin' like that, jeez."

"They have it, Blink. Look!"

"Good," Blink said, his voice somewhat muffled as he tweaked the middle of his nose, cracking it and relieving the pressure. The pain subsided and he dropped his hands to his side. "Now you can buy yourself your damn soda and then we can get back to the square. It's cuttin' it pretty close to sellin' time for the late edition of the papes."

"Don't worry," Mush answered earnestly. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

With the air of a young kid entering a candy shop, he hurried into the general store and walked right to the front counter. The elderly woman with the big hat that was being served by the clerk looked taken aback to see the street boy approaching but she did her best to pretend not to see him. With little more than an unnerved squeak, she picked up her bag of groceries and scampered around him, her nose in the air.

Mush didn't mind. He was used to it and, besides, his attention was on the balding man with the big grin and the really white apron.

"Something I can help you with?" the man asked pleasantly, wiping down the counter.

"Yes," Mush said decisively, his tone bubbling with excitement. "I want a Coca-Cola." He gestured out the door. "You have the sign up. I saw it."

The clerk chuckled to himself, setting his rag to the side. "A coke, is it? Of course." He reached under his counter. When he pulled his hand back out, there was an ice cold Coca-Cola bottle in his hand. Setting it down, he said, "That'll be five cents."

Mush's face dropped. He'd entirely forgotten that, in order to have a Coca-Cola, he had to _pay_ for it. Digging around the pocket of his breeches, he tried to count the handful of pennies he had in his pocket. _Seven… eight… nine… ten._ Ten pennies would mean twenty papes… or one Coca-Cola and only ten papes. He wouldn't be able to earn enough for supper and lodging, but he would be able to satisfy his overwhelming craving to try the soda.

Decisions, decisions…

"What's the hold up, Mush?"

"Blink!" His face split into a welcoming grin, Mush wheeled on his friend.

The blond, one-eyed newsie looked apprehensive. He had the sudden hunch that maybe it wasn't the best idea to follow Mush into the shop. "What?"

"Do you have a nickel I can bum off of you so I can buy my soda?"

The look Mush gave him was so pathetically pleading that he found his hand slipping into his pockets and drawing out an old, tarnished liberty-head nickel before he could even think better about what he was doing. With a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulder, he tossed the nickel at Mush. "You get the bill at Tibby's next time. I ain't splittin' a sarsaparilla with you again."

"I won't need a sarsaparilla. I'm getting a Coca-Cola," Mush replied happily. Turning back to the clerk, he placed the nickel on the counter. "One Coca-Cola, please."

"One Coca-Cola," the clerk said back, placing the glass bottle down in front of Mush.

Mush didn't even wait for the man to take the nickel and add it to his till. Grabbing the bottle with anxious fingers, he was out in front of the general store, Blink trailing behind him, before anyone knew it.

Now, for the moment he'd been waiting for…

"What the…" He grunted, trying to twist the bottle cap off. Despite his considerable strength and his big hand, Mush couldn't get the tin lid to move. "I can't get it off."

"Try using your teeth," suggested Blink.

Slipping the end of the bottle between his teeth, Mush bit down but nothing happened except he got the taste of tin on his tongue. Taking the bottle back out, staring at it darkly, he frowned. "It didn't work."

"Well, now what?"

"Maybe… maybe if I smack it against the ground. Maybe that would loosen the cap."

"The bottle's made of glass, Mush," Blink said hurriedly before Mush could lower the bottle to the hard dirt. "You smack it against the ground, it's going to shatter. And I don't have another nickel. Do you?"

"Good point."

As if on cue, the man from behind the counter came bustling out through the open door at that precise moment. He had a small silver contraption in his hand and he was waving it energetically. "Hey, sonny! You forgot this."

Then, before either of the two boys could do anything, he stuck his pudgy hand out, hooked the odd looking contraption over the bottle cap and twisted it. The lid came off easily, popping off the edge of the bottle and falling into the clerk's outstretched hand. There was a hiss as the carbonation escaped, and Mush's mouth watered to see the icy condensation on the inside of the glass bottle.

The clerk laughed, amused by the astonished expression that flittered over the boy's face. "Leaving without me opening the bottle... I don't know how you were planning on enjoying that soda."

Mush barely paid any attention to him; he was too busy staring in amazement at the fizzing bubbles and cool steam that escaped through the now open soda.

Blink nudged him. He blinked once, realized that the clerk was still standing there, and grinned. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome. You make sure you come back the next time for a soda. This Coca-Cola… it's going to be big!" And, with that prophetic pronouncement, the clerk wiped his hands on his apron, stuck the bottle opener in his pocket and headed back to his shop.

And, now, the moment he'd been waiting for…

Mush put the bottles to his lips, tilted it back, took one big swig off the caramel-colored liquid. His eyes widened as he got the first taste and then—

"Yuck!"

"What's the matter?"

"This… it ain't soda. This is sugar water!" He spat once, trying to get the too-sweet, too-syrupy taste out of his mouth. "Shoot, give me a sarsaparilla any day!" Mush shook his head in disappointment, his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously at the bottle he held in his hand. And he'd actually paid a nickel for this, too!

Then a twinkle appeared in the depths of his dark eyes and his disgusted frown shot up into a wide smile. "Hey, Blink? You want some?"

Kid Blink sighed and closed his good eye. Then, with all the strength he had remaining, he wished a really, really big fly would just come along and bite his friend on his nose.

For him putting him through all of this grief over a soda he didn't he _like_, Mush deserved the biggest, itchiest, reddest bite the flies could give him.

* * *

Author's Note: _I don't even know where this came from. I was in my room and I stumbled across a glass bottle that my brother bought last year and that we saved—it was a special edition bottle of Coca-Cola, imitation the bottle style from 1899. I had a curious idea: what would the newsies do with a soda like that? And, I guess, this one-shot is the result._

_As for the poster that Mush and Blink kept mentioning, you can see the one I was referencing on the Coca-Cola page on Wikipedia (the Hilda Brown advertisement from the 1890's). Just in case you're a little curious to see the poor model the boys were ogling—it made me giggle, at least._


End file.
